( ACT I; sleeping dragon )
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chapter 8: a most unfortunate decision.

DROGO'S promise to begin the conquest of taking the Iron Throne began promptly after the failed assassination attempt on Daenerys and Vaegon's life. At the Khal's orders, the Dothraki began their journey on a whim, the entire Khalasar packed and loaded as they filed out of Vaes Dothrak to begin it's journey toward the Narrow Sea. They entered the sea of grass once more to navigate its towering blades and seemingly endless vastness.

Amidst the sudden shift Vaegon wasn't sure how the Khal planned on funding the conquest. At first he'd been lead to believe they'd never truly begin a successful conquest. When Drogo's riders began to raid and pillage villages along the way of the journey, Vaegon understood what the price would be and found himself forced to turn a blind eye. No matter how much it troubled him to hear the cries and pleas of those that the Dothraki inflicted their terror on, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He knew there was a price for the throne and someone must pay it.

Half a dozen settlements had been raided once they'd arrived to the small village of Lhazar just a few hours prior, Vaegon had known what to expect. Expecting what was to come didn't make the cruelty any easier to bare. As he stood alongside Daenerys and Jorah near the edge of the clearing where the Dothraki were pillaging, raping, and beating the women of the comely village that had served no form of resistance against the savages, he bit his lip. Their sheep statue was pulled to the ground disgracefully by their horse-riding counterparts, their homes destroyed and bodies looted.

At the very beginning, a majority of the men had already been slain. Those who were left consisted of women that screamed and cried out as they tried fighting back with no luck. Their temple dedicated to their sheep-god was blazing with flames, sending a spiral of black smoke into the sky like a beacon of tragedy. Summiting the aftermath of the raid, a group of newly enslaved people were huddled together with their hands bound and bodies beaten and bloodied.

"Is this the only way?" Daenerys asked solemnly as she gazed ahead. "These horrible acts have already been inflicted upon too many villages. Is there no other way to fund the conquest?"

"They need people to sell to slavers," Jorah replied solemnly. "It is the only way the Dothraki know how to earn coin. Otherwise, they would normally take what they want."

A woman was thrown to the ground near the far side of the burning temple, where at least three Dothraki came to descend upon her. Vaegon was forced to look away from the cruel sight, keeping his violet eyes trained to his boots.

"Even if they must do this . . . " Daenerys uttered angrily. "These people don't need to be treated this way. This is needs to stop."

"I don't think Drogo would deny his men," Vaegon told her. "No matter what you would say. They expect to take their spoils. You know what type of people they are. They take what they want when they want it."

"If their spoils are raping women and murdering innocence, I won't have it," she declared."I won't have the iron throne bought with the blood and suffering of innocent people."

Vaegon frowns to himself, admiring how soft and naive Daenerys was but knowing that she wouldn't be able to stay that way if her future was bound to the Dothraki and all of their savage ways. With the Khal's child in her belly, he couldn't see an alternative future for her that was not in the Dothraki sea, unless the throne was truly conquered by the savage people she called her own.

"Our ancestor Aegon the Conqueror didn't take the Seven Kingdoms with nothing but negotiations, Daenerys," Vaegon reminded her. "Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar weren't used to merely scare the kings into handing their crowns and keeps over. Many, many men died during Aegon's Conquest."

"Vaegon's right," Jorah agreed. "Your own house words are 'Fire and Blood'. They are not merely a play at words, Khaleesi. The Seven Kingdoms fell because they had dragons."

Daenerys' features form into a displeased glare. "Our house words may be threatening and true in the past, but I am the Khaleesi and I have the power the put a stop to things that displease me."

"You can try, Daenerys, but your chances of convincing Drogo are slim to none," Vaegon tries explaining. "I hate to admit it but the innocent often suffer during times like these."

Without letting Jorah or Vaegon say another word, she stormed away from them, most likely to confront her Khal husband. The two watched her silver head grow further into the distance.

"She is stubborn as an ass," Vaegon sighed heavily with his eyes trained in the direction she'd went. "She might have been able to convince Drogo to stop the raping if we weren't at such a disadvantage. She belongs to the Dothraki and I'm merely along for the ride. Drogo isn't going after the throne for me. He wants it for their son. If only we had dragons. Maybe then we wouldn't be here at the will of the Dothraki."

The slightest glimmer of intuition appears in his mind as he is reminded of the three eggs Daenerys had possession of. He knew they were turned to stone, but a twinge of hope still lived in his heart to see them one day hatch and bring forth the existence of dragons once more. The thought seemed world upon worlds away.

"If only, Your Grace," Jorah agreed. "If only the dragons hadn't been caged away and forced to dwindle into nothingness. Your house wouldn't have fallen. I know you wish things could be different. But perhaps we should follow after to her in the case something were to go awry."

"I would hope nothing would," he replied as they both set off after her. "But knowing her and her tongue, it's more likely something will."

Soon enough they found the determined Khaleesi in the presence of her Khal husband, who was surrounded with his riders and companions. There were village women present as well, most likely collected by Daenerys and brought with her to claim. They huddled together, worried gazes darting around at the Dothraki surrounding them. Unfortunately, Daenerys' request had already been heard by all within ear shot. It was apparent from their unpleasant expressions.

She spoke in the Dothraki tongue, so strange and unpleasant Vaegon had always thought especially coming from her. In the moons that they'd lived among the Dothraki, Vaegon hadn't bothered to learn their tongue. The longer she spoke to her husband, the more her words seemingly angered the riders surrounding her as they shuffled uneasily and displayed sneers of distaste.

"She asks that the women be protected," Jorah translates to Vaegon as his sister continues to speak to her husband. "That she takes custody of them."

The riders immediately begin to complain to the Khal, who merely ignores them as gazes at Daenerys with admiration.

The longer Vaegon looked at the Khal, at the way he gazed at Daenerys, the way the more his hatred seemed to fester. Vaegon sometimes wishes the Khal dead, yet his resentment could only go so far. He'd been told before that the Khal held a good opinion of him. If a good opinion kept him alive, Vaegon would accept it.

With a wave of his hand Drogo shushes them as he speaks in his deep voice, words seemingly of commands but it sets off one of the Dothraki men who goes off in a quick rage.

"Drogo tells them that Daenerys can have the women she has claimed," Jorah told him as the scene begins to unfold even more. "But the rider claims he is a slave to a foreign whore."

"Does he now . . ." Vaegon muttered as his violet eyes narrowed on the olive skinned man, who was bristling with rage mere feet from Drogo. He felt his baneful anger beginning to flare up the longer he watched, knowing that in the mess of ugly words that the rider continually spewed, insults were being flung at Daenerys for taking a stand.

The rider who had vehemently refused to accept Drogo's commands continued to spew angry words, more likely insults. It led to his Arakh been drawn and ready to commence a blade battle with the Khal. He grew closer, the blade lifting to Drogo's chest until he pierced a deep split into his breast. Menacingly rising to his feet, all while the blade still sat in his flesh, Drogo stepped forward to face his foe. He yanked away the blade as a sneer began to appear on his features. As the Khal got close enough, the rider began swinging his weapon but Drogo was far to quick and swift for it to do a thing.

"With such rebellious people under him," Vaegon softly remarked to Jorah as the spectacle continued. "It's a wonder that he's managed to keep his power this long."

"That is an important thing to keep in mind," Jorah replied. "One should always choose peace over violence if it is an option. But it's not unheard of for a lord or king to choose otherwise when a rebellion or possible scheme might hatch upon him."

All to quickly, the rider was spewing blood as Drogo ripped away the man's throat, tongue and all with his bare hands. Vaegon watched in utter discomfort as the man grew limp, stooping to the ground and landing face first into the dirt. Crimson blood flooded the ground. Drogo dropped the mangled body part to the ground to take a seat where he had once sat.

"A king should also know when to assert himself as well."

Daenerys rushes forward to her husband, speaking in their tongue. As the disgust began to fade Vaegon sneered at the way she threw herself upon Drogo, feeling the slightest bit of jealousy overcome him.

"Where are the healers?" Daenerys called out quickly as she stood close to her husband. "The wound needs treated, now."

"I am a healer," a voice speaks up. All eyes turn toward one of the women that Daenerys had saved, a disheveled looking older woman with wiry hair and kohl shadowed eyes. She clung to a dark scarf that hung over her shoulders as if it were providing a sort of protection to her after the ordeal she'd faced.

"Maegi," Drogo's blood rider Rahkaro spit toward the lady in disgust.

"What does that mean?" Vaegon asked Jorah quietly.

"He says she is a witch," the knight replied.

Drogo refused the treatment at first, until Daenerys began to beg. Even among the displeased looks of his riders, he relented to Daenerys' request. The woman was brought forward to treat the wound as Vaegon and Jorah turned to leave the scene.

"If I could be plain, Your Grace," Jorah asked once they had meandered far enough away from the scene of commotion.

"Of course," Vaegon replied.

"I know it is not my place as your advisor to give personal advice," the older man elaborated. "But holding on could quite possibly hold you back."

"Hold me back?" Vaegon asked. "What is holding me back?"

"Daenerys."

"Daenerys? She and I aren't involved."

"Perhaps not now, but that does not mean your feelings aren't."

"You think she's holding me back? From what?"

"The throne, Your Grace."

"A throne her husband is currently taking for their son."

"The Dothraki will not take the throne under Khal Drogo," Jorah halts, bringing Vaegon to a stop. "Even if he is the Khal, one thing or another could come about and they'll never make it to the Free Cities to buy ships, let alone actually crossing the Narrow Sea."

"What is it your saying exactly?" Vaegon cocked a brow.

"I'm trying to show you that your true goal should be the throne, Vaegon," Jorah tells him. He points toward the area where the Dothraki are still gathered, Daenerys close to her husbands side as he is treated by the village woman. "You may love Daenerys, but her place is not at your side. She carries her husbands child. Her loyalties are to him and him only now."

Vaegon watches from afar with a solemn expression, seeing that she indeed was close to her husband, clinging to his arm as his wound was treated. She loves Drogo and Vaegon knows it. A part of him finally began to believe there isn't anything left for him with the Dothraki.

"You want me to pursue the throne on my own," Vaegon mutters.

"I believe it to be wise," Jorah answers. "You and I could leave for the Free Cities. Before the Dothraki could even gather the coin to buy ships, you could have your own with an army headed a crossed the Narrow Sea."

"But I would be leaving her," Vaegon states solemnly. "Leaving her without looking back."

"If that is what it takes, then it could possibly be the only way," Jorah explains. "Would you have stayed here had something tragic fallen upon her? Would you have stayed here with the Dothraki in her memory?"

Vaegon shakes his head, knowing the knight is right. She was the sole reason he was still among the Dothraki. He thinks perhaps leaving would be the only way he could take the throne, otherwise he would find himself contending with her husband for a child that hadn't even entered the world yet, a child that is below him in the line of succession. Would he allow his thrown to be taken by a babe?

"So be it," Vaegon uttered. "The next village we reach, we'll go our own way." He looks back to Daenerys one more time. "I pray this is the right decision, Ser Jorah."